


More like flying than falling

by Bookmonster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clothed Sex, Frottage, HP: EWE, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookmonster/pseuds/Bookmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Oliver meet again years later, they still have their first love Quidditch in common even if other things have changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More like flying than falling

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old LJ fic that I thought I'd upload here.

It had been a while. Oliver watched from behind the doors that separated the changing area from the Quidditch pitch. He had been told that Harry would be attending but still, it was a bit of a surprise to see him here and looking so much older. The last time he had seen him in the flesh he had been a still slightly small 15 year old messing around with his mates on the Hogwarts Express back to London. Now he was a lot older and more careworn than Oliver had ever imagined him looking.

Breathing deeply he could feel excitement bubbling in his stomach, it never got old waiting to go out against new and old opponents. Pitting hard learnt skills against an opponent, knowing that however much you prepare something could come out of the blue and hit you like dragon’s breath. Of course he prepared his team thoroughly, finding weaknesses in a team’s game and then exploiting them or making sure he had the right play planned for as many situations his imagination could come up with. Other people sometimes called him obsessive. They didn’t complain when his drills had won them a match though, you had to work hard for the things you wanted and Oliver always wanted to win.

The music started up then, the cue to make their way onto the pitch. He stood at the front of his team, head held high as the doors opened in front of him, the noise assaulted his ears as it increased tenfold in volume. The buzz in his stomach grew wilder and he looked up into the crowds waving banners. Harry was still there, he was clapping and watching as the opposing teams made their way onto the pitch. One in the green and yellow colours of the Bolton Bludgers, the other in the blue robes of Puddlemere United. 

The match went smoothly, as smoothly as Quidditch could go anyway. Oliver had anticipated that Bolton would try and take advantage of his relatively new Beater by concentrating both their Beaters’ efforts on him. This had left Oliver’s other Beater to concentrate on the Bolton Seeker. The plan had allowed his Seeker unimpeded time to search for the Snitch and a quick victory for Puddlemere United.

His fist smashed the air as Sally Godell came out of her deep dive, arm triumphantly held to the sky, struggling Snitch held within. Oliver had allowed his eyes to flicker towards where Harry stood. He thought for a moment that Harry was smiling directly at his position where he was hovering in front of the goal posts, then sunlight glinted off Harry's glasses obscuring Oliver’s view. He watched as a man in dark robes took Harry’s attention away from the pitch. Oliver let himself drift to the ground feeling slightly deflated, he plastered a smile onto his face as his team congratulated each other in loud voices and arm draped over shoulders. 

As usual Oliver was the last to leave the changing room, his team had showered and been debriefed but he stayed to go over the match in his mind, trying to work out weaknesses and solutions. When he left the changing rooms he found that the ground wasn’t as empty as he had assumed. Harry and the man in dark robes were gazing upward towards the stands, Oliver could now see that it was one of the board members. The man, Hardley? Harding? Was pointing out recent improvements to the grounds whilst Harry listened politely, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Ahh, Mr. Wood. I believe you know Mr. Potter from your schooldays?” 

Oliver had been spotted and rather than making his excuses he found himself studying Harry, comparing to the image he had in his mind. If Harry noticed the scrutiny he didn't show it, holding out his hand, Oliver shook it automatically. 

“Oliver.”

“Good to see you again Harry.”

Harley. Oliver had finally remembered was the name of the man. He had carried on talking about the way the Arena was changing. Oliver used the time to surreptitiously watch Harry again, he had changed, but that was hardly surprising. The events that had taken place in the last few years would leave their mark on anyone. Harry was no longer the boy who was so quick to smile with wonder in his eyes. His emotions seemed more guarded, there were some people saying that The Boy Who Lived had come back from the dead something less, something missing. Oliver was inclined to disbelieve the rumours. All he saw was someone less likely to let their emotions rule them, someone who had found wisdom in their experiences. 

“Oliver?”

“Er, yes Mr Harley?”

“I said that you would give Harry a tour of the grounds, you know them better than anyone. Never met anyone so passionate about Quidditch.”

“Of course.”

The tour lasted all of ten minutes, after he had shown Harry the changing rooms and then led him through the doors onto the pitch there wasn’t really anywhere else to go. He was obviously meant to be trying to impress Harry, maybe he was a benefactor of the club? They hadn’t really talked much and Oliver wondered if Harry was bored. 

“Do you still fly Harry?”

“I haven’t had the chance in a while, mostly I floo.”

“So what do you think?”

He raised his arms expansively and looked around the empty stands.

“It’s great Oliver, you deserve it. You always worked so hard, and worked us hard if I remember rightly.”

A slight smile quirked at Harry’s lips, it disappeared as he looked up into the dusk sky. Oliver had an idea.

“Do you want to try the new Nimbus prototype? They want to try it out in all the different positions and I’m the Keeper they chose. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I let you have a quick go.”

Without waiting for a reply Oliver summoned the broom from the side of the pitch where he had left it, he had planned to have a go after the game but this seemed a good way to see if any of the old Harry was under the calm demeanour he seemed to have adopted. 

“Nice trick Oliver.”

A playful glint had come into Harry’s eyes as the broom sped towards them. Oliver smiled.

“Yeah magically summoning a broom, don’t know where I got that one from.”

They both smiled at each other. Oliver hadn’t been there to see Harry take on the Horntail but his tactics had been talked about extensively by those who flew for a living, any new idea always was. In fact, Oliver had even devised a trick for his Chasers that involved a similar idea. The Chaser was supposed to drop off their broom, Quaffle in hand, then summon their broom back to drop under the defence of the opposing Keeper. All of his Chasers had so far declined to try it, so far. Sounded more like falling then flying they said.

Oliver turned his attention back to Harry who was holding the broom. He was looking at it with the practised gaze of someone who knew the importance of how each element of a broom had a part to play in flight.

“They’ve placed the foot rests at a different angle.”

“Yeah, they said it should place the body at the premium angle for both speed and comfort, especially in longer matches.”

“What about...”

“The main part of the broom is made out of mahogany, it’s heavier then the last broom, unusual but it has a heft to it that allows for more spectacular jumps as it’s a more stable ride. Of course they’ve had to adjust...”

“The aerodynamics of the tail, right?”

They both grinned, feeling more relaxed. Oliver watched Harry’s smile, he hadn’t noticed before but Harry had dimples. The one on his left cheek was more pronounced as if Harry only usually indulged in half smiles. It disappeared as soon as it arrived.

“How about a little one on one Potter? Unless you’re too out of practise?”

Oliver’s tone was teasing and a creeping blush made its way up Harry’s cheeks at the challenge.

“You’re on.”

Harry summoned a quaffle and jumped on the broom. He was soaring above Oliver in a matter of seconds. Oliver swore softly, Harry was still fast, and still looked as much of a natural as when McGonagall had first brought Harry’s skills to his attention. Oliver jumped onto his practise broom and flew towards the hoops at the end of the pitch. The wind whipping past him never failed to make him feel at ease and he closed his eyes as he let it rush past his face, he could hear Harry laughing in the distance.

He opened his eyes to watch as Harry looped and spun, he was obviously trying to press the broom to its limits. Oliver had known Harry was good but as he watched him now, after years of training and playing with and against the best, he felt a deeper understanding of just how good Harry could really be. How, when he flew it looked like he had found a part of himself that was missing on the ground, he looked free.

“Not bad Potter, now can you stop messing around and we’ll see if can actually do something with that broom.”

They played for a while but too soon they had increasing difficulty seeing the quaffle in the deepening dark. They both agreed with some unseen signal to make their way back to the ground. They landed slightly out of breath but happy. Making their way to the storage locker to put away the borrowed equipment both enjoying the peace that had settled between them. The tension that had been on Harry’s face had eased slightly.

“You could have gone professional, Potter.”

Harry’s face shuttered closed again. His reply, whilst it wasn’t cold exactly didn’t sound like Harry.

“In another life perhaps.”

Oliver could have kicked himself, Harry had been busy saving the Wizarding world, playing Quidditch was probably the last thing on his mind. Not knowing how to put his slip right he left Harry to his thoughts. As they said goodbye, Harry thanked him for his time in that slightly detached way that reminded Oliver of a Ministry official. All business. With that Harry left, leaving Oliver with the same slightly hollow feeling he’d had earlier. 

Oliver tried to put the evening out of his mind, whilst not totally disastrous he still felt a bit of a pillock for putting his foot in his mouth so thoroughly he could still taste it. For the rest of the season Oliver concentrated on his team, despite everything else he could still immerse himself in Quidditch. The week before the last game he received an invitation to a celebration of the best and brightest of the Quidditch leagues. A part of him wanted to refuse but he knew these were the sort of places that sponsors liked to meet the players and more Galleons meant better players and resources. It was a compromise Oliver supposed he’d have to live with and so on the evening he found himself picking out robes and muttering about stupid evenings cutting into his tactical planning time. 

When he arrived he hugged the walls, hoping he could get away with the minimum amount of small talk and perhaps even slip out early after he had shown his face. He picked up a glass of wine, more to have something to do with his hands than to actually drink. He nodded to other players he recognised but didn’t talk to anyone, he didn’t know them all that well anyway. Training didn’t give him a lot of free time so he mostly kept to himself. 

A sudden wave of quiet followed by an upsurge in the volume of chatter alerted Oliver to a change in the room. People began to be drawn to a dark headed man stood in the middle of the crowd as if he was the calm at the centre of a tornado. Oliver watched as Harry greeted various people, Oliver wondered how he managed to do it without screaming. Harry’s appearance made ripples for a while but they died down as people drifted off to carry on the party. Awards were given, Puddlemere even won a few, including best Captain to Oliver’s embarrassment. He retreated to the back of the room to watch, everyone’s attention was focused on the stage. He jumped slightly as someone moved up behind him.

“Congratulations Wood.”

“Potter, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

“Sorry, old habits.”

Oliver shifted slightly as he leant against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest. He tapped his finger against his upper arm, until Harry started to talk again.

“You don’t like being at these things right?”

“How did you guess?”

Harry just chuckled. The sound went straight through Oliver. He was glad he couldn’t see Harry’s face at this point. Damn of all the people to get a crush on The Boy Who Lived, someone he had known since they were at school was not his smartest idea. He was brought back to the present by a round of applause, it looked like it had been the closing speech of the awards. 

“Are you going to be staying longer?”

Harry’s voice was quiet, Oliver nodded knowing that Harry could see the movement. Harry moved away then and was once again engulfed by a crowd of people. Oliver knew he should just leave but when Harry kept catching his eyes from across the room and smiling, he couldn’t bring himself to go. So he stayed and watched. Watched how Harry talked to everyone, gave a piece of himself to whoever asked it of him. He felt his stomach clench as Harry headed towards him with his group, before he could find some way to get away Harry was introducing the group around him.

“This is Oliver Wood, he was Team Captain of Gryffindor when I was at school. He is now in charge of the Puddlemere team and has been instrumental in making sure they’ve been at the top of the league for the last few years.”

The people in the crowd started to introduce themselves individually, after a few minutes Oliver was deep in conversation with an ex-beater for the Holyhead Harpies who had a few interesting suggestions to make. Oliver found that he was enjoying himself for the first time that evening. He looked up to see green eyes watching him. Harry broke off from the conversation he was having and made his way over to Oliver again.

“Can I borrow Oliver for a minute, Stuart?"

Harry led Oliver away from the others. The room was quieter now and Harry led Oliver over to the buffet table away from the crowds for a moment. 

“So having a good night?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Thanks, for letting me use the broom, the flying. I just wanted to make sure I said thanks as I don’t think I did.”

Harry wasn’t looking at Oliver as he said this, he seemed nervous for the first time. Oliver didn’t quite know what to make of this, he looked down at the plate he'd picked up to have something to do with his hands. Oliver wondered if he could do something to make up for his blunder last time hating how Harry had become distant in that moment. 

“You’re welcome, you can stop by anytime. You looked like you enjoyed it, the flying.”

“I really did, it’s always made me...One of my best memories was the first time I ever flew.”

Oliver replied jokily, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly settled over the both of them.

“Well I'd take flying over fawning any day, don't know how you put up with it all.”

“It’s getting better.”

Harry’s glance made Oliver’s throat stick as he desperately tried to untangle his thoughts to say something that wasn’t completely idiotic.

“Erm, right.”

Damn. Harry just smiled however and as he started to turn Oliver forced the words out before he could stop them.

“I meant it, you know, stop by the grounds anytime.”

“Thanks Oliver.”

As Harry moved across the room to the exit Oliver noticed for the first time the two wizards in robes shadowing his movements, their wands discreet but visibly held in their hands. Security wizards. Oliver left soon after, although he had drunk next to nothing he felt slightly light headed and couldn’t stop the grin that stuck to his lips.

After that Harry dropped by at least once a week, more than that if he could spare the time. Oliver found himself increasingly looking forward to the times he spent with Harry. It was usually just a game of one on one, sometimes they just flew, enjoying the freedom from any sort of rules, just flying however they felt. If Harry turned up during one of the training sessions he would sit and watch at the sidelines, luckily his team were too well trained to let this become anything more than a minor disturbance. Oliver did wonder at the glances Harry sometimes seemed to be sending him, he didn’t exactly ignore them but at the same time he didn’t press his interest on Harry. He was fairly sure that he had enough of that at other times. So he waited, offering whatever Harry needed at that moment, a team mate, a friend, an opponent. Not wanting his attention to become yet another burden or obligation for Harry to carry.

One evening Oliver wanted to try something new, Harry had played Chaser, Beater and even on occasion Keeper when Oliver had a tactical position he wanted to explore. But Harry had never even talked about releasing a snitch, he was good at all the other positions but it was Seeker he was born to play. Everyone else had long gone home to their families, leaving Oliver to practise on his own as usual. He didn’t know how long Harry had been sitting in the stands before he noticed him, he had been flying drills, basic ones but it was important to get the foundations correct.

He dropped off his broom and landed with a soft thud next to Harry, slightly too close, he tried to step backwards and almost lost his balance. He was saved at the last moment by Harry’s hand gripping the front of his flying robes.

“Careful Oliver.”

Harry’s gripped balanced him and for a moment they were stood inches apart as Harry’s hand relaxed his grip on the robes. Oliver watched as Harry’s eyes flickered swiftly to his lips and back up again to catch his eyes. Oliver cleared his throat and took a step backwards looking back towards the pitch.

“I thought we could try something different today.”

“What would that be Oliver?”

Harry’s tone sounded slightly exasperated but Oliver ignored it in favour of the plan he had in mind. 

“I think we should practise with the Snitch today. It will be good for my reaction speeds and it’s your original position, might be nice for old times sake.”

“It’s nearly dark Oliver.”

“That’s what we have wands for Harry.”

Oliver trotted quickly over to the small box containing a Snitch, not wanting to give Harry anymore time to refuse. He plucked the tiny ball out and it unfurled its wings gracefully and began to beat them so quickly it sounded like someone was humming. He reached into his robes and brought his wand out, murmuring over the Snitch.

“Gleasum Solux. There.”

Harry watched the Snitch as it began to glint if he looked at it the right way.

“What does the spell do exactly?”

“Well, the way it was explained to me it would be the equivalent of having the sun glinting off it on a normal day, but without needing the sun. So you won’t be able to see it all the time, you need to be in just the right position and you’ll catch a glimpse of it. It’s too easy if it just constantly glows.”

Harry nodded and reached out to touch the Snitch, his fingers brushed against Oliver’s as they closed around the small globe of metal. Oliver wondered how such a small touch could have such a violent affect on his insides which were now churning. He looked into Harry’s eyes which looked back at him knowingly.

“Ready for a game Oliver?”

Oliver just watched as Harry released the glinting Snitch above his head. They stood for a moment letting the cool wind of a cloudless night ruffle their hair and robes until Harry jumped on his broom and moved off with his usual speed and style. Oliver followed, he hadn’t played Seeker for a while and silently hoped he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself. 

Harry took to the wind looking like a creature born to the sky, unsurprisingly Harry caught the Snitch. Oliver thought it might have been because his attention had been almost completely on watching how the muscles in Harry’s legs moved with the broom or how his shoulders tensed when he pulled his broom in a different direction. Oliver wondered if he would be as entranced if he couldn’t catch just glimpses under robes, but his brain nearly overloaded at the thought of seeing more of Harry. Oliver was relieved when Harry pulled out of a particularly deep dive crowing in triumph, the sooner he could get off his broom in his current state the better, he didn’t want to do any lasting damage to a current growing pressure between his legs.

As they both landed on the ground Oliver saw the flushed excitement on Harry’s face, his eyes lit with a light that seemed to have been missing before. Oliver watched as Harry hit the ground running and launched himself at Oliver. His arms were wrapped around Oliver’s neck, he was slightly out of breath and the pants that escaped his lips tickled the fine hairs behind Oliver’s ear. Harry’s laughter was breathless as he pulled away from Oliver, his arms were still locked around the back of his neck allowing just enough room to watch Oliver’s reaction to the bare inches of space between their faces now.

What he saw obviously was enough to encourage him as Harry leant forward tightening his grip around Oliver’s neck and allowing just a small hesitation before pressing his lips to Oliver’s. Oliver managed to hold onto his composure until Harry sucked his bottom lip, teeth teasing slightly at the tender skin, then he let out a quiet moan. Harry was driven on by the muffled sound, his tongue flitted out to run along the slight gap between Oliver’s lips. A delicious tingle ran from straight from his lips down his spine, to explode warmly in his abdomen. Oliver tentatively ran his own tongue across the opening of Harry’s, heat rising when he felt Harry’s own tongue pressing back. There was nothing tentative about the way Harry was running his hands, palm flat, down from Oliver’s shoulder blades, down the indent of his spine to rest on the small of his back.

Eventually needing to break apart to take on oxygen, Oliver felt a cold breeze run across his lips which were still moist from Harry’s tongue. He shivered and looked around, they were in the middle of the Quidditch pitch where anyone could see them. 

“No one is here Oliver.”

Oliver turned back to see Harry’s green eyes watching him carefully. He couldn’t think of anything to say other than denying that he had been thinking about that, and he didn’t want to lie. So he just watched as Harry’s pupils expanded, with lust or compensating for the dark he couldn’t tell. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he looked into the night sky. A tiny golden glint shone amongst the silver stars. Harry watched with him and spoke almost ruefully.

“I must have let it go.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a practise one so it’s charmed to return with an accio.”

“You should have told me earlier, we could have been doing this sooner.”

They both chuckled and Oliver wondered at the fact that none of this seemed awkward. They were standing their arms still wrapped around each other, warm chests and faint heartbeats pressed against one another and none of it felt awkward. It just felt real, like everything else had been vague and unimportant until now. Oliver didn’t quite know what to make of it, he had been with other people, and he hadn't been able to stop thinking, analysising. It had always been all about Quidditch, but now Harry was mixed up in that in and Oliver knew now that he would never go out onto a pitch or mount a broom without thinking of this moment.

His attention was brought back to the present by hands moving from his back to rest on his waist, thumbs following the grooves that ran diagonally down his abdomen stopping to rest as they met the top of his trousers. Oliver’s mind was buzzing now, he closed his eyes to try and concentrate. Harry hooked his thumbs over the top of the fabric and pulled him forward, the evidence of their arousal now plain to both as it was pressing together through layers of fabric. Oliver jerked automatically to try and find friction, the result was a gasp from both his and Harry’s mouth. Harry grasped a tighter hold of Oliver’s hips and repeated the slow grinding movement until Oliver’s head dropped forward onto Harry’s shoulder. Their movements sped up and Oliver turned his head to Harry’s neck, alternatively kissing and murmuring nonsense into the sensitive flesh there. Both too soon and much too slowly for Oliver’s liking, he felt a mounting tension, his hands snaked to Harry’s arse pulling him closer together. Their motions becoming jerky as finally Oliver let out a suppressed groan, the noise pushing him over the edge. Harry followed freezing for a couple of seconds before grinding more slowly riding out his orgasm. Oliver felt light headed as they both clung to each other, with the release of tension or because they were holding each other up, he didn’t know or care at that point. 

All too soon, the cold crept into their haze. Oliver wanted more so badly, had never wanted something so much in his entire life. He knew however that he wouldn’t ask for it.

“Come back to mine?”

Oliver nodded silently, not trusting his brain this time to come up with something that wasn’t ridiculously soppy or inane. Harry obviously found all he needed in Oliver’s silent acceptance though as their hands entangled themselves. They left the stadium with the quiet pop of disapparation leaving behind a softly glinting Snitch and their abandoned brooms.


End file.
